Some content creators like to include how often they’ve played a game when they publish a review of it. Especially when board game enthusiasts begin to publish their thoughts and opinions on games, they eventually ask themselves: how often do I have to play a game, before I can review it (or am allowed to, depending on their beliefs about personal freedoms).

They want to pre-emptively refute the accusation of having played the game only once, before they rushed to the camera/microphone/morse station/etc. to create more content for their channel. It follows that the first play of a game isn’t treated as meaningful enough to base a critique on it.

That is perfectly reasonable. Especially if you’ve spent any time thinking about past game nights. You’re sure to find many reasons why a single play of a game might turn out brilliantly or absolutely dire. Irrespective of what the game actually provides or fails to. One or more players might be in the wrong mood for that game. Maybe they had a stressful day at work and aren’t in the mood to go at each other when playing Root. Or maybe they want some confrontational interactions, and not some quiet, meditative placing of polyominos on their player boards. Or maybe the rules explanation was so jumbled and impenetrable that the game that followed felt confusing and aimless. And so on. As mentioned, there is an almost endless number of reasons why the first play of a game should better be ignored.

Among hobbyist gamers this insight is treated as so self-evident, that it has become common practice with some groups. The first impression of a game shouldn’t be used to judge it. At least in theory. And as we all know theory is theoretically identical to practice. It’s only in practice, that we find out that it isn’t. Which means that whatever impression a first play leaves behind involuntarily shapes follow-up plays. We can try to keep an open mind when we sit down to play the same game again. We can try to suppress our memories of it (and comparable ones), so we could judge the game ‘objectively’. But that, too, skews our judgement somewhat.

It’s not hard to understand why that is. Our impression of a game, whether negative or positive, is memorable because it is tied to emotions. It’s the positive feeling of validation we get, when we got take action in a game and change things in a palpable way. When our decisions were meaningful, because we managed to influence the course of the game just the way we wanted. In short: a game in which we experience agency, is a positive memory which sets up our expectations for next time. Simply knowing that we can experience this kind of self-efficacy frames how we judge this game going forward. This is true of both single games and entire genres. We “like” certain mechanisms and game genres, when it feels that they let us participate meaningfully. Conversely, we dislike the kinds of games and mechanisms that we fear will expose our inaptitudes and invite ridicule.

Try as we might: preferences and dislikes that are set this way shape what many content creators believe to be their personal taste in games. Every new game is then judged by these preset assumptions, before that game gets a second look. But the same is true of players, who have no desire to create board game media content. If social deduction games only serve to remind you of your helplessness in figuring out other players’ motives, you’ll hardly be able to approach the next social deduction game without reservations.

In other words: it’s impossible to approach the first play of any game without some kind of bias. And you’d think that this would irrevocably prove that the first play of a game has absolutely no value when talking about a game. But it turns out the opposite is true.

The first play of a game is always met with some kind of bias. Whether there will ever be a follow-up play is down to how the game meets players’ expectations. Setting those expectations correctly is generally the publisher’s job. They are the ones who are responsible for a game’s presentation. It is in their best interest to draw attention to those elements of the game, that actually shape it. Board game criticism can help in passing, as it names the core elements of the experience and what parts of the game pay into it. But how often a game was played to identify those things, isn’t of primary importance here.

That number is far more important for content creators, though. Their experience through multiple playthroughs serves as a data point for players. They are more likely to give a game a second, third or even fifth chance, if a content creator they trust, has assured them that there is a great experience waiting for them once they make it past that “steep learning curve”. This recommendation only gains more weight with each playthrough that content creator has under their belt. It’s treated as a given that the validity of a content creator’s recommendation can be measured by the number of playthroughs they’ve done. Which is at least true for games that can only be played once.

[This post has been edited 13 times before publication.]